


It's the Great Pumpkin, Little Omega

by CrashDevil (cjdevlin19)



Series: Best Laid Plans Series [16]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Depression, F/M, Reader-Insert, a/b/o dynamics, mentions of noncon marking, mentions of self-mutilation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:33:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26657443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cjdevlin19/pseuds/CrashDevil
Summary: John's back and trying to make up for abandoning his omega. Sam's trying to make things better between Y/n and Dean. But all that matters is stopping the raising of Samhain.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~It was a good distraction from your ever-worsening nightmares when John woke you up in the middle of the night by growling at his sons to go sleep in the Chevy.“You okay, baby girl?” he asked in the afterglow. He had his arms wrapped around you, body pulled tight against his as you waited for his knot to go down. “Your nightmares were getting better before and now they’re worse than ever.”“How do you know?” you whispered.“Can feel it. All that distress, not just when you’re sleepin’ either.” He pressed his lips to the bolt of your jaw and sighed. “What’s goin’ on in that head o’ yours, sweetheart?”You bit your lip and sniffled. “Since Dean’s been back, it’s gotten worse and worse. Probably just because I know he went through Hell, too, ya know? He’s a constant reminder of what Hades saved me from, I guess.” You smiled at him over your shoulder. “It’ll go away. I’ll be okay eventually. How long can this realistically affect me? It’s only Hell.”
Relationships: John Winchester/You
Series: Best Laid Plans Series [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1526507
Comments: 3
Kudos: 39





	It's the Great Pumpkin, Little Omega

**Story Warnings** : angst...A/B/O dynamics, canon divergence, angst, physical violence, mentions of forced marking, pining, mentions of noncon, mentions of self-mutilation, did I mention angst? Non-explicit smut

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Where the hell have you been?” Dean snapped as John shut the motel door.

“Lawrence,” John answered, wrapping his arm around your waist and guiding you to the couch. He sat and you immediately climbed into his lap, nuzzling into his neck and scenting him. “I had to look into what you told me about your mom...figure out how I missed it.”

“You weren’t looking for it back then,” you whispered, running your nose along his neck and behind his ear. “You couldn’t have recognized what you didn’t know.”

“That’s what Missouri said.”

Dean scoffed angrily and stood. “You just fuckin’ _abandoned_ Y/n! After you promised to keep her from needing Sam, you fuckin’ disappeared!”

John was silent for a minute, his hand running up and down your spine. “Who told you?”

“ _She_ did! Couple days ago when I was dying again and no one could get you on the damn phone _again_.”

“Son, watch your tone with me,” John rumbled.

“Watch my-” Dean growled and you buried your face into the crook of John’s neck. “Are you kidding me here? Sam fucks up and loses his mind, forces his mark on her and _you_...you won’t let her cut it out, put your _own_ mark on her to get her through her heats and then you fuckin’ disappear on her so now she’s got two fuckin’ marks she wants to cut out and you wanna talk to me about my fuckin’ _tone_? Oh, you’ve got a fuckin’ pair on you, don’t you, Dad?”

“You wanted to cut out my mark?” John asked, quietly, looking down at you.

You swallowed thickly, afraid that you’d upset your alpha. “N-no. Not really. I just...I was sick...I wasn’t thinking-”

“Shhh. It’s okay, darlin’. It’s my fault and I’m sorry.” You purred as he slipped his hand under your tank top to run his fingers up your spine and kissed your cheek. "Shouldn’t have left without you, baby."

"Oh, so he's back and all's forgiven?" Dean snapped. "He left you to succumb to pining sickness and you're okay with that?"

"He had some heavy shit to deal with, Dean. I knew he'd be back," you said without turning your attention away from your alpha. You kissed his jawline and down his neck, nipping at his collarbone through his shirt. "And he came back for me."

"He came back to pop his knot, not because he wanted to be here!" Dean growled.

"Dean." Sam cleared his throat and stood. "Calm down. Let's go get a short stack at the diner down the street."

Dean rolled his eyes and stepped away to grab his jacket. As soon as the brothers were gone, you were straddling John and kissing him. "Missed you so much, Alpha," you mumbled against his lips.

John pulled back to look into your eyes. "I _am_ sorry, Y/n. I should have taken you with me, but I was so angry at Mary and Sam...I didn't want to bring you into that."

You swallowed and nodded. "It's okay, John. I know you didn't...you didn’t mean to...to make me sick. It's okay."

"It's not. I didn't even answer the phone. I shut you out just like I did the boys when Azazel came back. It's not okay and I'm going to make it up to you, Y/n."

"I'm just so happy to have you back."

"You feel better?" he asked and you nodded. "Me too. You look exhausted, though, sweetheart."

"Sleep is...not easy. Between the nightmares and the sickness, I-"

"This thing a pullout?" John asked, patting the back of the couch.

"Uh-huh!" you answered.

"Then let's pull out the bed and get some rest."

Your eyebrows came together slightly. "You don't wanna have sex?"

"Not tonight. Tonight, I'm exhausted from driving and you’re exhausted from what I put you through and I'm not in rut yet so I wanna just lay down with my pretty little omega and let both of us get some much needed sleep. Okay?" he asked, getting up with you to pull the cushions from the couch.

"But you...still want me?" you asked, meekly, looking away. Something about all those weeks of silence had shaken your confidence.

John turned to you, shocked at your tone. "Of _course_ I still want you. I just...don’t want to show up and immediately get a knot in you because that's not why I came back. I came back because I figured out that what Mary did doesn't matter. Hunter or not, deal or not, she's dead and I'm here. Me and the boys have survived and it's thanks to Mary...thanks to you. You saved Dean just like Mary saved me. So I can't focus on my anger that she lied to me our whole relationship...I lied to her more than a few times too." He stepped close and looked down into your eyes. "I want you, Y/n, and I'll remind you how much in a little while but right now we need to get some sleep."

"Okay, Alpha," you said, going to your tiptoes to kiss him. You watched him pull out the folding bed and grab the cushions to use as pillows before kicking his boots off and lying down. You crawled onto the bed and curled into his side, resting your head on his chest and letting his scent envelope you. “Good night, John.”

“Good night, darlin’.”

John fell asleep immediately but sleep was difficult for you on a good day. You were resting with your eyes closed when the door opened. You decided to pretend to sleep as Dean and Sam’s scents rushed through the room. “Huh. Woulda expected…” Dean started in a whisper.

“Told you, dude. It’s not about that,” Sam whispered back. “Dad cares about her.” Dean snorted as the door closed. “Treats her better than I’ve ever seen him treat anybody else. She’s not just a place to get off for him, D.”

There was silence for a minute and you could feel Dean’s eyes on you before he sighed. “Be a lot better if she was.”

“Really? You don’t want her to have someone who cares about her?” Sam whispered as the springs of his mattress groaned under his weight.

“I wanted you to-” Dean started before he cut himself off. The sound of the other bed moving under Dean’s weight went across the room. “Why’d you have to go and fuck this up? It wasn’t _hard_ , Sam. Be nice to her, make her happy, be her alpha. You dropped the ball harder than anybody I’ve ever seen and this is comin’ from a guy who sold his soul to a damn demon.”

“Why are you so determined for me to be her alpha, Dean? Is it the age thing or what?”

“You just...you deserve her and she...she doesn’t deserve to be with an alpha in his fifties or a…complete mess. She deserves the smart one, the nice one. You’re supposed to be the one she deserves. Why’d you have to go all crackhead after I died?”

Sam groaned slightly. “I wasn’t _high_. I was just...depressed? I got sad and I got Alpha Aggro and I couldn’t help it, but that was...not drugs. It was just…”

“Drugs would make more sense. Drugs would be a better excuse than ‘I got sad’. Jesus, Sam, you made it where she’s stuck with Dad for the rest of her life unless she cuts those marks out...and seriously, man, she _tried_ to cut your mark out. Have you seen that scar?” There was silence. “This is not how this was supposed to go.”

“Sorry to disappoint you. But this is how it is. She hates my guts and she cares about Dad enough to let herself be comfortable with him.”

Dean sighed loudly. “Yeah. Get some sleep.”

You snuggled closer to John and willed yourself to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nightmares forced you awake, sweating and panting in John’s arms, adrenaline coursing through your veins. “Hey, sweetheart, it’s okay,” John whispered, running his hand over your hair as you tried to regain your breath. “You’re back. It’s okay.”

You sat up and ran your hands down your face. “I’m okay,” you whispered as John sat up beside you and leaned his forehead against yours. You grabbed his arm to ground yourself as flashes from your dream forced jolts of fear through you. Dean sat up in his bed and looked over at you and you gasped, closing your eyes tightly and taking a deep breath.

“I’m here, Y/n. It’s okay,” John assured you, trying hard to comfort you.

You cleared your throat and relaxed into John’s embrace. “Thank you.” You opened your eyes and looked into concerned hazel ones. “I’m okay, John.” You gave a tight smile. “Just, uh, gonna go take a shower.”

You climbed off of the bed and made your way to the bathroom, splashing water on your face to clear your mind. You weren’t sure where that dream came from. Probably a metaphor for Dean breaking your heart. Maybe? Maybe just a confluence of Hell memories and the fact that Dean went to Hell, too. But Dean standing over a slab in Hell, knife in his hand, cutting your heart out? That was an image you were going to have to work to repress.

“If you wanna leave the scent blocker off, you can,” John’s voice came through the door. “You know how much I love smellin’ ya, sweetheart.”

“Gotcha, John. I’ll leave it off,” you called back as you started to undress for your shower.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

John seemed determined to prove that he hadn’t come back just because he was on the edge of his rut, holding off from fucking you until he was two days into his cycle and he just couldn’t hold back any longer. It was a good distraction from your ever-worsening nightmares when John woke you up in the middle of the night by growling at his sons to go sleep in the Chevy.

“You okay, baby girl?” he asked in the afterglow. He had his arms wrapped around you, body pulled tight against his as you waited for his knot to go down. “Your nightmares were getting better before and now they’re worse than ever.”

“How do you know?” you whispered.

“Can feel it. All that distress, not just when you’re sleepin’ either.” He pressed his lips to the bolt of your jaw and sighed. “What’s goin’ on in that head o’ yours, sweetheart?”

You bit your lip and sniffled. “Since Dean’s been back, it’s gotten worse and worse. Probably just because I know he went through Hell, too, ya know? He’s a constant reminder of what Hades saved me from, I guess.” You smiled at him over your shoulder. “It’ll go away. I’ll be okay eventually. How long can this realistically affect me? It’s only Hell.”

John kissed you and hugged you just a bit tighter. “The fact that you and Dean didn’t completely lose your minds down there is a miracle, sweetheart. Don’t feel bad about it affecting you.”

“God, you’re so sweet to me.”

"You deserve it, Y/n."

You weren’t sure about that, but you wouldn't argue it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Razor blades? That’s a myth,” you said. “No one’s actually put razor blades in candy for real.”

“Yeah. Exactly. Sounds like one of our things. Just in time for Halloween.” Dean smiled at the group but Sam and John both looked a bit put-out at the mention of Halloween.

You rolled your eyes. “I forgot Sammy was a Halloween grinch.”

“I’m not a-” Sam started to argue, but Dean reached out to slap the back of his head.

“Yeah, you are. Don’t argue with facts.”

“But I didn’t know he got that shit from _you_ , John,” you continued, pointing at the older alpha.

John shrugged. “I don’t have a problem with Halloween for kids, but after a certain age it’s kinda ridiculous, isn’t it?”

“I mean, it really depends on where your development arrested, right? Since some of us didn’t really have a chance to be kids so we’re always making up for lost time there?” you said, specifically avoiding looking at Dean. “Anyway, it’s fun and spooky in a way that’s nothing close to the spooky shit we really have to deal with. It’s nice.”

“And there’s candy,” Dean provided. “So much candy.”

“You don’t need more candy, son. You’re gonna get fat,” John warned.

You reached out and slapped the back of your hand into John’s shoulder. “Don’t be mean. Let him have his candy.”

John smiled softly at you and nodded. Dean let out a huffing breath and turned away from you and his father. “Actin’ like my damn stepmom now,” he grumbled under his breath before he started to pack his bag. “Let’s get our shit and get to Tennessee.”

You sighed heavily and picked up your already-packed bag. Nothing you could do was right with Dean. “Let’s go, John. We’ll get there first and set up. Your sons can follow us when Dean’s done with his tantrum.”

“Dean, you’re gonna have to stop-” you heard Sam start as you left the room.

John walked up behind you as you threw your bag into the bed of the truck and wrapped you in a hug. “He’ll get over it eventually.” You leaned back into his embrace and sighed. “He’s jealous.”

“No, he’s not. He wanted me with Sam. He’s pissed that Sam ‘dropped the ball’ with me. He’s not _jealous_. He stopped wanting me a long time ago. I’m not…” You let out a heavy sigh. “I’m not normal. I’m not aprons and apple pies and picket fences.” You turned in John’s arms and looked up into his eyes. “When I was younger...a pretty, little omega who didn’t know how to hunt and had never taken a knot...he wanted me then, but after...after _you_ and hunting and...I’m not what he wants anymore. He’s not jealous, John. He’s just an ass.”

“Well, maybe we should just...get away for a while. Go our own way? The boys can handle-”

“I’d love that. You wanna entrust the End Times to _those_ asshats?” you snapped.

"If anyone could handle it…" John let the sentence die as you shook your head. He knew it was less about the Apocalypse and more about the fact that you didn't want to leave Dean, asshat or not. "Okay. Let’s go."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and John got a room for you and one for the brothers right next door. John kept looking over at you as you started to unpack.

“What? Why do you keep staring at me, John?”

“Why don’t we take a vacation after this job? Just you and me, a week on the coast or something.”

You snorted at his joke and went back to hanging your clothes up until you realized he was staring at you still. You turned to look at him and raised an eyebrow. “What? You’re not serious.”

He nodded. “Yeah, I’m serious. Sam and Dean can handle themselves for a week.”

“John, have you _ever_ taken a vacation?” you asked, skeptically, setting your hanger in the closet.

“No. No, I haven’t,” he answered, stepping closer to you. “But it’s feelin’ like a good time to take one.”

“The Apocalypse is a good time for a vacation?”

John sighed and took your hands in his. “You’ve been working nonstop for years. You’ve got trauma you can’t work through while you’re working the job and-”

You snorted. “I don’t have _trauma_ , John.”

“Yes, you do,” he insisted.

You looked away from him and those piercing hazel eyes and shrugged. “Fine, but we all do. Why should I get to-”

“Because you’re my omega, darlin’, and you’re my responsibility. If a few days of rest can take some of the stress out of your scent and fear out of your dreams...then let’s do it. After this job...we’ll go somewhere together. What do you say?”

You looked back and caught the soft look in his eyes. He just wanted to make you feel better. How could you deny him when he was going out on a limb to make you feel better? “Okay, John. We’ll go on a vacation.”

He smiled and leaned down to press a kiss to your temple. “Good. I’m glad. We can figure out what we wanna do later, pull up some travel sites?”

You snorted and went back to unpacking. “Surprise me, John.”

“I’ll try.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A hex bag Dean found at the first victim’s house had you looking into witches before the second victim boiled to death bobbing for apples. Another hex bag with goldthread, a coin, and an ancient charred baby bone pointed to the witch working a spell.

“Three blood sacrifices over three days, the last before midnight on the final day of the final harvest. Celtic Calendar, the final day of the final harvest is October 31st,” Sam read from his lore book.

“Halloween,” you and Dean said.

“Exactly,” Sam said.

“What exactly are the, uh, blood sacrifices for?” Dean asked.

“Uh, if I’m right, this witch is summoning a demon and not just any demon...Samhain,” Sam said.

As Dean said, “Am I supposed to be impressed?”, John said “Sow-en.”

“What?” Sam asked, looking at the older alpha.

“It’s pronounced ‘Sow-en’, son. It’s Celtic.”

Sam blinked a few times, then sighed. “Okay, anyway, Samhain is the damn origin of Halloween.” He made sure to pronounce the name correctly before continuing. “The Celts believe that October 31st was the one night of the year when the veil was the thinnest between the living and the dead and it was Samhain’s night. I mean, masks were put on to hide from him, sweets left on doorsteps to appease him, faces carved into pumpkins to worship him. He was exorcised years ago.”

“So even though...Samhain took a trip downstairs, the traditions stuck,” Dean said, stumbling over the name.

You walked over and took the book from Sam.

“Exactly, and now instead of demons and blood orgies, Halloween is all about kids, candy, and costumes,” Sam finished.

“Okay, so some witch wants to raise Samhain and take back the night?” Dean joked.

You rolled your eyes at the reference. “Can you be serious?”

“I _am_ serious,” he defended.

“We’re talking heavyweight witchcraft,” Sam started.

“The ritual can only be performed every six hundred years,” you said, tapping the book. “Which is tomorrow night if any of you were wondering.”

“Naturally,” Dean said, looking at the book. “Well, it sure is a lot of death and destruction for one demon.”

“That’s because he likes company,” Sam said. “Once he’s raised, Samhain can do some raising of his own.”

“Raising what, exactly?” Dean asked.

“Everything. All kinds of dark shit,” you answered.

“A lot of it, too. I mean they follow him around like the fuckin’ Pied Piper,” Sam explained.

“So, we’re talking ghosts,” John said.

“Yeah,” you and Sam confirmed.

“Zombies?” Dean asked.

“Mm-hmm,” Sam hummed.

“Leprechauns?”

“Dean-” you admonished.

“Those little dudes are scary. Small hands.”

Sam took the book back from your hands and sighed. “Look, it just starts with ghosts and ghouls, this sucker keeps going, by night’s end we are talking every awful thing we have ever seen. Everything we fight, all in one place.”

“It’s gonna be a slaughterhouse,” Dean said seriously.

“So how do we stop sacrifice number 3?” you asked.

“You and Dean go question the widow again, see if you can find a connection. Dad and I will crack open the books and figure out if there’s a way to stop Samhain if we don’t stop the raising.”

Dean shot a glare at Sam. “I can do that-”

“If you sit by yourself on a stakeout, you’re gonna fall asleep so take Y/n,” Sam said, turning away with the book.

“When have I _ever_ fallen asleep on a stakeout?”

“March ‘06, the ghoul in South Carolina,” you answered, grabbing your jacket. “Let’s just go.”

Dean followed you out to the Impala and sighed heavily before joining you in the front seat. You didn’t say a word to each other as you questioned Mrs. Wallace and got back in the car to sit on the house. You sat in relative silence as Dean ate mini chocolates and bobbed his head to classic rock songs.

“Sam’s trying to fix us by forcing us to interact,” Dean said, eventually as he tossed a candy wrapper on the floor at your feet. You hummed in acknowledgment but didn’t respond. He looked over at you when you didn’t speak. “No comment, huh?”

“What comment are you looking for?” you asked, not looking away from the house. “You’ve made yourself very clear about how you feel and it’s not going to change with a few hours in a car together so what do you want to hear from me?”

Dean pursed his lips and looked out the window. “Dunno, honestly. Just thought you might have _something_ to say.”

“No. Time for talking is past. Like I said...you’ve made it clear.”

“Right,” he said softly. “Clear on what, exactly?” he asked after a few moments of silence.

You rolled your eyes. “How you feel about how shit’s gone down. How you feel about my relationship with your dad...and what happened with Sam. How you feel about _me_. It’s fine.”

“And...what have I made clear about how I feel about _you_ , huh?” he asked, an edge to his voice.

“Nothing. You feel nothing for me. I don’t think you’d even call me a ‘friend’ anymore,” you said, grabbing a candy from the pile between you and unwrapping it. You needed the distraction.

“That’s what you think, that you aren’t even my friend?” He looked over at you as you popped the candy into your mouth. “Y/n, you’re one of the only friends I got.”

“Hm-hmm. Sure. Ya treat all your friends like this? No wonder you don’t have any.”

“Come on! How’m I _supposed_ to act here?” He sighed heavily and shook his head. “Everything got all fucked up.”

“Yeah, and that was _my_ fault, right?” you snapped.

“No! I didn’t say that.”

“No, but your actions speak louder than you think, Dean. If you don’t blame me for this crap, what _do_ you blame me for because you’re being a dick for some reason?”

He sighed and shook his head again. “I don’t...I dunno, Y/n. I just...wanted to come back and everything’d be the same and...fuckin’ everything’s different and wrong.”

“Yeah. Not everything,” you whispered, thinking of the way you felt for him, how that would never change. “But still. I get the shock, but you don’t get to treat me like shit, Dean.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. He didn’t apologize, though. “So, uh, are we...we good?”

“I don’t know. Are we?”

He ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek and focused his eyes on yours. “You...you know my dad was a shitty husband, right? He and Mom were always fighting. I mean, he’s already abandoned you once, you think he won’t do it again?”

You ran your hand down your face and shrugged. “I don’t have much choice here, Dean.”

“You could…” His words trailed off as he realized you were right. Your options were dangerous surgery, death, and living with it. “He’s just...you deserve…”

“He’s trying. I think he realized he wasn’t the best alpha for your mom and he’s trying to be better for me.” You focused your vision out the window beside you and bit your bottom lip. “He seems to really fear fucking this up.”

“And what about Sammy? You ever gonna...forgive him?”

You snorted. “Fuck if I know. I don’t really _want_ to forgive him. He’s still lying about why he did it...and he did it and then replaced me with a demon, that’s...I don’t know. Maybe someday.”

“Guess I understand that.” He ran his tongue along his teeth. “Dad’s gotta do better, though. You can’t let him get away with disappearing like that again.”

“He had to deal with the fact that your mom was lying to him the entire time he knew her. I don’t blame him for-”

“Disappearing without even saying ‘Goodbye’ to you and ignoring the dozens of times you called him and letting you get rejection sickness so bad that you had to cuddle up to Sam, who you have no interest in being close to? You don’t hold any of that against him?”

You scratched at the back of your neck and shrugged. “Does it help-”

“Don’t start that,” Dean snapped. “Don’t act like you can just ignore all the emotions that aren’t fuckin’ _helpful_ , Y/n. That’s not how this works.” He licked his bottom lip between his teeth and bit into it. “Helpful or not, you’re angry. At him, at Sam, at _me_ , you’re pissed and pretending like you aren’t isn’t gonna help anything.”

“Helps me,” you answered quietly. “Helps me pretend like I have any sort of control over my life. So don’t give me shit over pretending because that’s all I have anymore, Dean, is delusions and playing pretend. I _have_ to act like I can push down the bad feelings and I have to pretend like Hell doesn’t haunt me and I have to pretend like all’s forgiven for every-fucking-body because dwelling on it just hurts more!”

“Y/n.”

“I don’t have options anymore, Dean. I don’t even have the option to be angry.” You took a deep breath and sighed. “I’m going for a walk. Don’t fall asleep while I’m gone.”

“It’s the middle of the day,” Dean protested weakly as you opened the passenger door and climbed out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam and Dean went to check out the cheerleader and the art teacher she attacked while you and John dug deeper into her background. Her parents were listed as Jerome and Mary Jane Davis, but you couldn’t find anything on them. It was like they didn’t exist. Sam and Dean confirmed that when they returned...Tracy was alone, an ‘emancipated teen’.

You went with Sam to check on Tracy’s apartment, John and Dean went to question her friends. “You and Dean talk at all?” Sam asked eventually.

“Why?”

“I’m just...just curious.”

You licked your lips and turned to him, hands on your hips. “Yes, Sam, your ploy to get me and Dean alone so we could work through our issues worked. We talked and he told me I’m one of the only friends he’s got and tried to talk me into leaving your father but that’s not even a fucking option so the conversation ended with me walking away.”

“You need to tell Dean how you feel, Y/n,” Sam said, quietly. You just scoffed. “I’m serious. You need to tell him that you love him.”

“I would _never_ …” You wiped your eyes to keep your tears from falling. “I’m not gonna say that. I’m not gonna put that knowledge on him when he’s so obviously avoiding it. If everyone else that knows me knows how I feel and he doesn’t, it’s because he doesn’t want to know, Sam. So I’m not going to say it. Please, stop trying to force it.”

“I’m not trying to force...I just want you to be happy and I know that Dean can-”

“Dean doesn’t want me, Sam!” you exclaimed, throwing your hands up in the air. “We’ve really got to look at facts here. I am not what he wants.”

“You were! When Dad was missing and it was me, you, and Dean, we were-”

“That was before I died! That was before he found Lisa again! That was before you destroyed me and John had to claim me to pick up the pieces! He wants nothing to do with this mess!”

“You aren’t a mess, Y/n.” Sam ran his hand through his hair and stepped back from you, but you could see that he wanted to step closer. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I hurt you and I’m sorry I messed everything up but I know that you aren’t a mess, okay? I’m sorry. Please.”

“Please what? Please get over it? Please stop reminding you? Please go die in a ditch because that’s the only way you’re gonna be free of-”

“No, that’s not...please forgive me,” he urged.

“Forgive...forgive you.” You shook your head and went to search Tracy’s bedroom.

“Look, I know that’s a tall order and I don’t expect it right now, but _someday_ , please.”

You wanted to scream at him, tell him you’d never forgive, never forget, that he’d never fix it...but you didn’t. You pushed it down because that was your only real option.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean and John struck out on finding Tracy too, and you were feeling pressure as the four of you headed for Sam and Dean’s motel room. A trick-or-treater in an astronaut costume stopped you and you were sadly unable to give him any treats since Dean ate them all.

“Sorry, kid. I’m sure you’ll get more candy elsewhere. They pass candy out at malls now, right?” you said, trying to make the kid feel better, but it didn’t make much difference in the glare he was sending toward Dean. You followed the Winchesters to their room and gasped as Sam pulled his gun.

“Who are you?!” he demanded as Dean rushed in and you and John followed.

“Sam! Sam, wait! It’s Castiel!” You gasped as Dean forced his brother to lower his weapon, but then your eyes focused on the two unfamiliar figures in the room. “The angel. Him, I don’t know,” Dean said, looking over at the Black man standing by the window.

Sam’s face took on a look of wonder and John came over to set a protective hand on your shoulder as the white man in the trenchcoat with the wild hair and piercing blue eyes, Castiel, approached. “Hello, Sam,” he greeted, his voice a deep gravel.

“Oh my God--er--uh, I didn’t mean to--sorry,” Sam stammered. “It’s an honor, really. I--I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Sam stuck out his hand for a handshake as Dean shut the door to the room and Castiel looked at it for a distressingly long moment as if he were debating what to do with that outstretched limb, before he took it in his own hand. “And I, you. Sam Winchester--the boy with the demon blood,” he said as he covered Sam’s hand with his left as well.

Sam’s scent leaked shame as the angel looked up into his eyes. You could tell that Sam felt the interaction was harsh, but you only saw those hands encircling Sam. This angel, who likely knew every horrible thing any of you had ever done, was embracing Sam. That gesture seemed almost...beautiful...hopeful.

“Glad to see you’ve ceased your extracurricular activities,” Castiel finished.

“Let’s keep it that way,” the other angel said, barely turning away from whatever he was looking at out the window. Cold, callous, celestial. Nothing beautiful there.

“Yeah, okay, Chuckles,” Dean snapped as Castiel let go of Sam’s hand. “Who’s your friend?”

“This raising of Samhain, have you stopped it?” Castiel asked, ignoring Dean’s question.

“Why?” Dean asked.

“Dean, have you located the witch?”

“Yes, we’ve located the witch,” Dean lied and you bristled at the idea of trying to lie to an angel.

“And is the witch dead?” Castiel asked.

“No, but-” Sam started.

“We know who it is,” you answered, gasping as the angel’s eyes fell on you.

“Apparently the witch knows who you are too, Y/n,” Castiel said, walking over to the bedside table to pick up a hex bag. Your name on his lips made you shiver and John squeezed your shoulder. “This was inside the wall of this room. An identical one was found in the wall of the room next door. If we hadn’t found them, surely one or all of you would be dead. Do you know where the witch is now?”

The four of you looked at each other. “We’re working on it,” John and Dean said at the same time.

“That’s unfortunate,” Castiel said, looking over at the other angel.

“Why do you care?” John asked, stepping forward.

“The raising of Samhain is one of the 66 Seals,” Castiel answered.

“So, this is about your buddy Lucifer,” Dean accused.

“Lucifer is no friend of ours,” the other angel protested.

“It’s just an expression,” Dean defended.

“Lucifer cannot rise. The breaking of the Seal must be prevented at all costs,” Castiel said.

“Okay, great, well now that you’re here, why don’t you tell us where the witch is, we’ll gank her and everybody goes home,” Dean snapped.

You could see the frustration on the angel’s face as he said, “We are not omniscient. This witch is very powerful. She’s cloaked ever from our methods.”

“Okay, well, we already know who she is, so if we work together-” Sam started, but the other angel interrupted.

“Enough of this.”

“Okay, who are you and why should I care?” Dean barked as the other angel turned around.

“This is Uriel,” Castiel introduced. “He’s what you might call a...specialist.” The angel seemed put-upon that Uriel, the specialist, was there.

“What kind of specialist?” you asked.

“What are you going to do?” John followed.

“You...uh, all of you, you need to leave this town immediately,” Castiel demanded.

“Why?” Dean asked.

“Because we’re about to destroy it,” the blue-eyed angel admitted.

“Wait...you’re gonna straight Sodomize the town?” you asked, completely unable to stop yourself from making the joke.

Dean snorted and smirked, but managed to keep himself from laughing as he held onto his worry. “No, really, you’re gonna smite the whole fuckin’ town?”

“We’re out of time. This witch has to die, the Seal must be saved,” Castiel said.

“There are a thousand people here,” Sam protested.

“One thousand two hundred fourteen,” Uriel corrected.

“And you’re willing to kill them all?” Sam asked.

“This isn’t the first time they’ve done this,” you said, as Uriel opened his mouth to respond. “Sodom and Gamorrah were just the most famous. There’ve been others. Pompei, Centralia...Trellech, Wales.” Uriel’s eyes lit up at the mention of Wales and you nodded. “So, Uriel here is an architect of tragedy. Must be a position of great import in Heaven.”

“You have no idea,” Uriel said, smirking proudly.

“Look. I understand this is regrettable,” Castiel started.

“Regrettable?” Dean snapped.

“We have to hold the line. Too many Seals have broken already,” Castiel tried to explain.

“So you screw the pooch on some seals and this town has to pay the price?” Dean asked.

“It’s the lives of one thousand against the lives of six billion. There’s a bigger picture here,” Castiel said.

“Right, ‘cause you’re bigger picture kinda guys,” John said, shaking his head.

“Lucifer cannot rise,” Castiel insisted, stepping up to Dean and looking in his eyes. “He does and Hell rises with him. Is that something that you’re willing to risk?”

Dean seemed struck by the idea of Hell on Earth. Words didn’t come for him.

“We’ll stop this witch before she summons anyone,” Sam promised. “Your seal won’t be broken and no one has to die.”

“We’re wasting time with these mud monkeys,” Uriel snapped and you let out a hissing breath, mouthing ‘mud monkeys’ to John.

“I’m sorry, but we have our orders,” Castiel said, turning his back on you but looking over his shoulder at Dean.

“No, you can’t do this. You’re angels,” Sam exclaimed. “I mean, aren’t you supposed to--you’re supposed to show mercy!”

“Says who?” Uriel responded coldly.

“Read your Bible, Sam. Angels are cold, callous warriors, many full of spite for the humans our Father loved more completely than them.” You had read through every version of the good book that Bobby owned, translating several just to read what changes there were between them. “Many stood with Lucifer and fell with him when he rose up against God for the injustice of being told to love us, but there were some who agreed with the Morningstar and were just too cowardly to disobey.”

Uriel’s jaw twitched as you pointed at him. John and Dean looked a mix of worried and proud as you circled around the larger angel. Sam seemed too disheartened by the situation to feel anything else. “The way you called us ‘mud monkeys’, that tells me exactly where you stand in the Paradise Lost of it all. No wonder you’re so proud of your work. Must love getting the green light to off a bunch of us all in one go.”

There was silence as Uriel glared at you, before Castiel sighed. “We have no choice.”

“Of course you have a choice. I mean, come on, what? You’ve never questioned a crap order, huh? What are you both, just a couple of hammers?” Dean exclaimed.

“Look, even if you can’t understand it, have faith. The plan is just,” Castiel said, finally turning to look at Dean again.

“How can you even say that?” Sam asked.

“Because it comes from Heaven, that makes it just,” Castiel said, turning his eyes on Sam.

“Oh, it must be nice...to be so sure of yourselves,” Dean snapped.

“Tell me something, Dean, when your father gives you an order, don’t you obey?” Castiel asked, eyes flicking to John. You could see the ‘not always’ thought slip through both men’s heads before Dean licked his lips.

“Well sorry, boys, looks like the plans have changed,” Dean said matter-of-factly.

“You think you can stop us?”

“No.” Dean shook his head and stepped across the room to look down into Uriel’s face. “But if you’re gonna smite this whole town, then you’re gonna have to smite us with it because we are not leaving.” You smiled at his bravado. _This_ was your Dean. Full of shit, making a bad choice for the right reasons. Perfect. “See, you went to the trouble of busting me out of Hell, I figure I’m worth something to the man upstairs. So you wanna waste me, go ahead, see how he digs that.”

“I will drag you out of here myself,” Uriel practically growled.

“Yeah, but you’ll have to kill me, then we’re back to the same problem. I mean, come on, you’re gonna wipe out a whole town for one little witch? Sounds to me like you’re compensating for something,” Dean said, before turning back to Castiel. “We can do this. We will find that witch and we will stop the summoning.”

“Castiel! I will not let-” Uriel started but Castiel put his hand up to stop him.

“Enough!” Castiel looked into Dean’s eyes for a moment before nodding slightly. “I suggest you move quickly.”

Dean almost smiled at the angel before rushing out of the motel room, Sam and John running after him. You didn’t move as Uriel disappeared with a fluttering sound. “Why have you stayed?” Castiel asked.

“You can’t read my mind?” you asked, sitting on the edge of the closest bed and pulling out your phone. You tapped out a quick text to John before focusing on the angel.

“Curiosity,” he answered. “You are curious about me.”

“I’m curious about everything. It’s a truly unique situation to find yourself in front of a millenia-old celestial being who saw the beginning of creation.”

“You weren’t so in awe of Uriel,” he said, his head tilting slightly.

“Well, Uriel’s a dick. I wasn’t wrong about him being a cowardly human-hater, was I?”

“I don’t think any of my battalion could be called cowards,” the angel answered. “But he is...not fond of your kind, no.”

“Yeah. I kinda felt that.” You bit your bottom lip and sighed. “You’re...at least you’re trying, you know? I can see that.”

“Omegas are naturally intuitive,” Castiel said. You shrugged. “I want the best outcome. But whatever the outcome here, Lucifer cannot be freed.” The thought of Hell on Earth flashed through you and you took a deep breath. “You have experience with Hell. More than even Dean. You know that Lucifer cannot be allowed out of his Cage.”

“We’ll stop it. I know we will.”

The angel smiled softly. “Y/n Y/l/n...omega junction of the Winchester alphas. Hope should not come so easily to someone who has been through so much.”

You looked away bashfully. “Hope is all that’s left for me.”

“You have much ahead of you.” He reached out and took your hand like he’d done with Sam. “There’s a lot left for you.”

You smiled and looked back at him. “Thank you. That’s...uplifting.”

“They will need you to get through the coming trials.” He squeezed your hand and patted it with his left. “We may be...hammers, but we see _your_ worth.”

“Don’t you mean ‘I’? Because something tells me that a lot more of the Heavenly Host think like Uriel than you.”

Castiel smiled slightly and gently released your hand. “Insightful,” he said, turning away from you. “You should go. Find the witch. Stop the raising of Samhain.” He disappeared from your sight and you let out a sigh.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your head hurt when you got back to the motel. Samhain had tossed you into the wall of the mausoleum when you and Sam tried to stop him raising more ghosts and ghouls and zombies. You were bleeding from your head when Sam put his hand up and used his powers. You had never seen him use them before, weren’t expecting the blood to drip from his nose like a sieve, or the pure aura of danger that poured off of him. It reminded you of the day he marked you.

But it worked. Samhain went back to Hell where he belonged. Dean and John focused on picking you up off the ground and putting pressure on your bleeding gash as Sam wiped at his own blood and tried to avoid making excuses.

“We should take you to a hospital,” John said, moving your hair to look at the still-seeping laceration on your scalp.

“I’m fine, John. Just get the superglue, I’ll be all right,” you dismissed.

“And if you have a concussion?”

“Then I’ll fucking live with it. Can you please just stop fawning over me and fix this shit so I can get some sleep?” you snapped.

“Sweetheart, what’s the-”

“I swear to God, John, fix me or I’m gonna do it my damn self,” you growled. John sighed and dug into his duffel for the medical bag. As he started to sew the cut on your head, you had to breathe and dissociate from the pain, which made it easier to calm yourself. “I’m sorry, John. Just...something about Sam using his powers. It...felt...he seemed...like that day at Bobby’s. I told you he was wrong...now I know why. He was using his powers all the time back then and now...I’m sorry, John.”

“It’s okay. Dean and I are both worried about him using the powers, too. They obviously twist something inside of him,” John said, quietly. “All the more reason to keep you away from Sam for a couple days, though. I found a cabin for rent in Montana and-”

“Really? You still want to go on vacation after all this?” you asked, eyebrows coming together.

“Yes. More now. You need a break. Hell, so do I, Y/n. We need this.”

You licked your bottom lip into your mouth and bit into it. “Okay. We’ll go to Montana,” you said after a moment, as John moved around to sit in front of you. The smile John gave you was almost enough to wash away the pain and anxiety enveloping your body.


End file.
